Movie fans, it’s no coincidence that the new James Bond movie, Spectre, and the Peanuts movie were both released earlier today. You see, films cost so much money to make that these two blockbusters shared some production costs associated with their action sequences.

SPOILER ALERT… Look closely and in the dramatic chase in both movies, you will witness the same scene.  In one, James Bond’s classic 1963 Aston Martin takes on the alter ego of the Red Baron.  In the other, Snoopy’s dog house car becomes 007’s sinister villain’s transportation.

Exhibit 007… Aston Martin

Exhibit K9… Snoopy’s Dog House Car

First, the chase scene from Spectre…

Spectre Race

Second, the chase scene from the Peanuts Movie…

Peanuts Race

Sorry to ruin some of the “Hollywood Magic,” but no worries, just wait until you see them race in 3D.

With a wide smile on his face, my 6-year-old son Ben embarked on his way to school… walking backward…  the entire way.  Rather than tell him about how unsafe it was, I decided it would just be easier to put out a help wanted ad for more guardian angels.  No matter how many I hire, they will have their work cut out for them.

Taking advantage of the last forecasted day of nice weather, I decided to rake some of the leaves in the backyard. Raking away, I was met by something unexpected…  anger.  Sure, raking is a yucky chore, worthy of a little angst, but this was different.  I was angry about all of the work associated with moving.  Angry that I was preparing the yard for a future owner.  Tired at the thought of another move.  Angry.  Not so much mad about our move’s destination.  We are going to a great new town, with a beautiful house waiting for us, and an exponentially better job for Charlene.  It was however not how I envisioned it happening.  Beginning last spring, we had been in many ways forced to leave our home.  Forced to make changes.  Forced to change schools mid-year.  Forced to leave dear friends.  For a time, forced to live apart from my wife, who I miss so much.  Forced to now clean up these damn leaves and I would not even get to enjoy the tidy yard next spring.  I was angry.

What made it even worse was that I felt guilty for being angry. We have an exciting future ahead of us.  New opportunities.  New friends.  New adventures await.  Things that really do give me hope and cause me to look forward, but maybe it was the leaves, maybe it was the changing weather, maybe I am just tired of it all, but I was angry and in turn I was being downright and shamefully ungrateful.  Yes, my anger was a source of shame.  That’s when I remembered an old sermon given by a guest pastor from our old church.  In fact it was three churches ago, which again reminded me of how often we have moved and why I have a right to be tired.

That guest minister spoke of the human condition, but first spoke of a squirrel. A squirrel that he had seen earlier in the week, as it darted back and forth across the road.  Sure the squirrel was acting foolishly, but it was also acting the way that squirrels do, the way God made them.  In much the same way, people sin.  They act foolishly.  They are ungrateful, even as God’s many blessings unfold before them.  Humans acting as humans do.  The human condition.  Not that we should give up on trying to improve, but we should also forgive ourselves for being human, just as God forgives us.

So let us not dwell. It’s okay to be angry.  It’s okay to be bitter.  It’s okay to be human, but we must not dwell in that dark place.  Just as staying in the road is hazardous for the squirrel’s health, remaining in those dark emotions do us harm.  So onward.  So look to the future.  A future where so many blessings unfold to form new beginnings.  A future of sunny days, when the leaves are green and back up on the trees, right where they belong.

I like my Kellogg’s Frosted Mini Wheats soggy. There I said it.  Don’t judge me, just because I know what I like.  Yes, sitting there in the milk, the mini wheats undergo a magical transformation.  No longer crispy and sharp.  No longer individuals.  No longer simply milk and cereal living in the same bowl.  Given time, they become something greater.  Something one.  Milk, mini wheats, life all forming one singular whole.  A breakfast collective with the unified intent of filling you up.  There I said it.  I like my Kellogg’s Frosted Mini Wheats soggy.  Take your scornful looks elsewhere and hand me a spoon.

You know that old ice cream container in the back of your freezer? The one that only has a little bit left and for some reason was shoved back behind the bag of tater tots?  The one that has sat back there too long and now has an unappetizing sheen that has formed over the ice cream’s surface?  The type of container that my Grandmother would have seen such a pitifully small amount of ice cream remaining in the bottom and would have placed on the kitchen floor for our dog to lick out the remainder?

Yep, that’s me. The container.  Nearly empty.  Spent.  Although it is worth clarifying that no one has yet placed me on the kitchen floor for our dog to lick clean (thank God for small favors).  Time for bed or perhaps time for a trip to the store for some fresh ice cream.  Decisions, decisions.

Pre-decoration cookies.  I know, I know, I’m a day late with the Halloween theme, but close your eyes and just imagine that they are leaves and turkeys.

The decorated versions.  Are your eyes closed?  There you go, lovely Autumn leaves and turkeys.

BROWNIE CUT-OUT COOKIES

“Got a hankering for brownies? Got a hankering for sugar cookies?  Got a hankering for both?  Well here’s the answer to all of your prayers, a sugar cookie with the chocolatey goodness of a brownie.  Yummy times two.  Enjoy.”

1 cup Butter

1½ cups Sugar

2 Eggs

1 teaspoon Vanilla Extract

3 cups Flour

½ teaspoon Baking Powder

½ teaspoon Salt

2/3 cup Cocoa Powder

Goodies for decorations

Cream butter and sugar.

Mix in eggs and vanilla extract.

Mix in flour, baking powder, salt, and cocoa powder.

Form dough into a disk, wrap in plastic wrap, and refrigerate for one hour.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

On a floured surface and using a floured rolling pin, roll dough out to a thickness of 1/8^th inch.

Cut into desired shapes and place on parchment paper lined baking sheets.

Bake for 8 minutes.

Decorate to your heart’s content.

Makes about 76 cookies, but the number is of course heavily dependent on the size of cookie cutters used.

Revised Source: “Brownie Roll-Out Cookies” recipe on www.smittenkitchen.com.

Let me set the stage, err table. While sitting at the dining room table, I face the living room.  The living room with the “nice” chairs.  Charlene sits with her back to the living room.  This means that most of the living room happenings go unnoticed and unauthorized, when she sits at the dining room table.

Our 8-year-old son Sam had finished his dinner, sort of, well as much as Sam ever finishes a dinner. Appropriately enough he asked to be excused and was granted his release from the apparent torture of being asked to eat baked ziti with a side of grapes.  Bounding toward the living room, Sam promptly flopped upon one of the nice chairs.  Not surprising in that Sam is the most likely candidate in the family to “flop” on a chair, even a “nice” chair.  Plus, this flop was all-in, I mean limbs flailing all about.  Bottoms on the arm of the chair, head off to an angle, and legs and arms in all sorts of unauthorized places.  Not the appropriate way to sit on one of the “nice” living room chairs and certainly a blunder committing a household rules violation so close to his mother, even with her back turned.

Witnessing the flop, I stared directly as Sam and gave a subtle shake of the head. A clear warning that any observer could have deciphered, but yet stealthy enough as to not disrupt the flow of diner table conversation.  Unfortunately, young Sam was too busy flopping to catch the glance and the only person who saw the head shake was the one person it was intended to avoid.  Yes, the lifeline I had thrown to Sam had been intercepted by his mother, who promptly turned her head, witnessed the violating flop, and swiftly provided instructions to young Sam to halt the offending behavior.  Ah, flop warning fail.

Glancing into the rearview mirror, I almost felt sorry for them. My children were suffering.  They just wanted the pain to stop.  Pity.  Yes, I sort of felt bad for them.

But not bad enough to stop singing along loudly with “Hotel California” on the radio. Considering that it was a moving car, my kids could have checked-out any time they like, but they could never leave.

Prepare yourself for a horrifying tale. As tale so frightening, I would have trouble believing that it is true.  Yes, I would not believe it, but for the fact that it is happening to me.  Happening to me today, yesterday, and the day before.

First I credited this new phenomena to my purchase of new sweaters. Certainly that was the cause.  No cause for alarm.  No need to be concerned, but for the fact that today I wore an old t-shirt.  The sweaters were not the cause.

“The cause of what?,” you ask. Well, sit down.  Prepare yourself to hear of a tale of human metamorphosis.  Something unnatural and truly grotesque.  Yes, you guessed it.  My belly button has begun collecting lint.  Not once.  Not twice.  Three days is a row!  And not just a little lint, but a huge nugget.  Every.  Single.  Day.  Sort of like my belly crevice has become some hideous substitute for the less-than-glamourous dryer lint trap.  Nasty.

I dread looking down. What will I find?  Has my belly button developed some type of new curvature?  Is it now more spoon than flesh?  I live in fear.  What have I become?  What am I becoming?  What will my belly trap next?

Level 8 Parental Fail – Shopping for my child’s Halloween costume only three days in advance.

Level 9 Miracle – Blessing upon glorious blessing that Target had one last kids size 8-10 “new style” Stormtrooper costume left in stock.

Level 10 Consumer Pain – Realizing that the prepackaged gem costs a whopping $35 and really should not be anywhere close to a flame.